


You are Still (the color of my blood)

by AntheaGunn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, you are still-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3460898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntheaGunn/pseuds/AntheaGunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her lover's eyes shine with laughter and Clark covers Lexa's mouth with hers, trying to capture the sound, to plant it inside her, and imagines soft and pliant roots spreading over her lungs, covering her heart like a protective shell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been a reader, never a writer, but this couple really fascinates me and so I've decided to try my hand at publishing something. Please leave a comment, I'm eager to know what you think about it. 
> 
> I feel Lexa's character is a little OC, in the sense that she's softer in this story compared to the way we've seen her in the show, so you're warned.
> 
> Happy reading!

… I've hidden those words in the lining of my coat. I take them out like a jewel thief when no-one's watching. They haven't faded. Nothing about you has faded.   
Jeanette Winterson- Written on the Body.

 

1.

Among the confusion that dominates her mind only one thing is clear: Lexa is hurt.

The woman who more than anyone else has taught Clarke what it means to truly live, the girl who stood by her side during the war, ready to fight, ready to die with her, is moaning in pain, face ashen and limbs collapsing.

Lexa tells her she's her soulmate, and no matter how absurd the concept sounds to Clarke – who's grown up in a place where feelings, as well as space and resources, had to be carefully managed and regulated - she knows that the invisible yet unbreakable blood-red string that links her to the Commander, that has kept them together through sacrifices and missiles and battles, will not be severed after death.

The girl is loosing consciousness, her body is shutting down trying to overcome the sudden loss of too much blood, oh god so much blood, and her eyes, the same shade as the ground towards which Clarke had been hurled, falling, falling from the sky, are closing in the allurement of sleep.

Clarke knows exactly what's happening; she recalls the notions that were imparted to her during her medical training, back in a time where, despite the charcoal and paper that piled in her room, she couldn't even imagine how it felt to sink her feet and her hands in the richness of the soil, to feel the heat of the sun on her skin, to soak her body in the freezing, clear water of the ocean, to feel alive and free, like the birds she had only ever seen in books and documentaries.

She knows what's happening inside Lexa's body. She knows that the girl must have lost at least a fifth of her blood volume, that she has not enough to oxygenate the entire body, and so her brain is redirecting the flow towards the more vital organs, itself and the heart.   
She knows that's the reason why her partner's hand is so cold; that, considering the situation, the temperature of Lexa's hand is the last thing Clarke should be worried about. Still, she can't help regarding the freezing appendix like a bad omen.

She casts the thought aside and spurs the horse to go faster, faster, to take them to the camp as soon as possible.

She knows what will happen if they don't make it in time. Lexa will keep loosing blood. Her extremities will go into gangrene from oxygen deprivation, the tissue dead and blue. Then her organs will start shutting down, first the liver, then the pancreas, then the lungs, then the brain. The heart will be the last. Her pulse will get weaker and weaker, and then it will stop.   
And she knows, without doubt, without even thinking about it, that if that should happen hers would stop as well.

She urges the horse again and decides to ignore the animal's suffering pants, how its movements have turned sluggish and uncoordinated, so different from the majestic and elegant creature she had been riding only a few hours ago.  
But this is Lexa's horse; and although she doesn't yet understand the connection, the bond that the grounders are able to establish with the animals that serve and protect them, she knows the creature will not abandon its master.   
She knows it'll keep running until they reach the imposing wall that surrounds their new village, where grounders and sky people are finally living together as one community.

So she keeps her hand firmly over Lexa's wound, trying to apply as much pressure as she can, to keep as much blood in as she can.   
And she talks to her.   
She knows Lexa can't hear her. She knows that the stories of people waking up from comas and proclaiming to have heard their loved ones voices through the fog are just that, stories.   
Still, she can't stop. (And this, she thinks bitterly, this is the real reason why doctors are not supposed to treat family and friends, because when someone you love is fighting against death you stop believing in science and start believing in something else, anything else that will give you hope, that will keep you blind over the desperation).

So she talks. She talks until her throat is sore and the words that come out of her mouth make no sense. Until the litany of it'll be okay makes her feel almost as warm as Lexa's body does when they are alone and naked under the furs of their bed, until the string of I love you's makes her believe that Lexa's hand is actually moving, holding hers.

The sun is low in the sky and the trees are vibrant with yellows and reds, an explosion of colors, by the time Clarke makes it to the village, its borders surrounded by guards after the few attacks they have suffered from a rival tribe.  
The soldiers see them from afar and by the time they reach the wall the gates have already been opened and a small crowd has assembled, curious and inquisitive.   
Clarke dismounts the horse, which immediately falls to the ground now that its mission is over, and without her saying anything a man takes Lexa in his arms.   
She has only enough energy left to direct him towards the medical area, her voice soft and pleading.  
Clarke knows she's about to faint when she feels two strong arms closing around her and keeping her upright.   
She thinks they could be Octavia's, or maybe Lincoln's, but when she turns her head her eyes come in contact with Indra, her face stoic and devoid of emotions. 

The second in command looks at her and although no words come out of her mouth, Clarke can see the multitude of questions swimming in her eyes, mirrored by the voices of the people around them, asking louder and louder what's happened, why their commander is hurt, if she's dead.   
Clarke is not coherent enough to answer any of those questions. She feels drained, her limbs weak and her mind foggy after the long ride.  
A sort of understanding passes between her and Indra in that moment and the soldier uses her deep, strong voice, even more imposing in her native tongue, to command silence. Then she shifts, taking the majority of Clarke's weight on herself, and they head off towards the infirmary. 

 

2.

She must have indeed lost consciousness at some point, because the next time she's able to concentrate enough to grasp a sense of her surroundings she finds herself laying on a hospital bed, the walls white and bare around her.   
Her back, accustomed by now to the hard surface of her and Lexa's cot, hurts from the too soft mattress and she thinks that's probably why she woke up in the first place.   
Certainly not because she's had enough sleep. Her body is still sore and aching, and her mind still suffers from the confusion that she knows comes from a good dose of dehydration coupled with a high level of exhaustion.

The room is still and silent. Peaceful.   
Since the end of the war, her mother has told her many times, the never ending stream of patients has dropped so much that the doctor has decided to take up a few other activities around the village, cultivating healing herbs and selecting a few young grounders to which she has decided to teach the wonders of modern medicine.

Her eyes finally adjust to the light and she's able to look around the room, noticing for the first time the figure perched on the chair at the side of her bed. 

Raven's hands are linked together in front of her face, reminding Clarke of the pictures she has seen of congregations praying, invoking a god that the people of the Ark had preferred to leave behind, the space inside the stations too tight even for religion. 

Her friend is silent, her eyes closed. Clarke tries to speak but her throat is dry and sore and she only manages to utter a few feeble, incomprehensible sounds.  
But they're enough for Raven to notice that she's awake and Clarke observes how her friend's eyes focus on her, looking for any sign of distress and then relaxing once they find she's awake and apparently okay. 

Clarke closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them she finds a glass of water in front of her. She accepts it gratefully, savoring the fresh liquid in her mouth, moaning in pleasure at the way the muscles of her throat relax at every sip. She signals with her hand when she's had enough and Raven puts the glass back on the small table near the bed.

Finally she asks, her voice tired and flat, “Is she dead?”   
Raven is silent for a long moment, her eyes fixed somewhere on the wall behind them. Then she takes a breath and holding it in she answers, “No.”  
And in that moment Clarke forgets how to breath, closes her eyes as the fog in her mind thickens and a sense of nausea invades her stomach.   
Because she knows Raven, knows all her virtues and flaws, knows how she thinks, how she moves. And she knows, undoubtedly, unequivocally, that what her best friend is really saying is “Not yet.”

Raven looks at her and Clarke can see all the questions her friend is refraining to ask, can see her confusion in the way she keeps opening and closing her mouth, how she can't keep her hands still. A few minutes pass until Clarke sees her mouth stiffen, her eyes focus and she knows Raven has reached her limit.   
So she's not surprised when after a few moments she hears “What happened out there, Clarke?”

________

She closes her eyes again, takes a deep breath and tries to hold it as long as she can, like she used to do when she was little, her head under the water and her arms around herself, trying to block out the sounds, the confusion that marks the life of many people enclosed in a restricted space. 

Silence was rare on the Ark, a luxury that a growing community in a shrinking area could not afford, and those were the only moments in which Clarke could savor it, for even during the night the hum of the ventilation system, the sound of footsteps just outside the door of her suffocatingly small room, were constant and unavoidable. 

She tries to prolong the silence, to hide behind it, to clear her mind from all thoughts. But her brain betrays her, and she can see the day playing itself in front of her eyes, like a perfectly cut and edited movie. 

She sees herself waking up in their bed, her body warm from her and Lexa's combined heat, their legs intertwined. Her face is buried in her lover's hair and she can smell the soap, prepared with flowers and berries, that her and Lexa had made together a few weeks ago.   
They had been laughing and playing over the mixture of blackberries, daisies, and oil and Clarke remembers looking at Lexa, remembers how the other girl was giggling freely, and how in that moment she was so beautiful that Clarke's breath was caught in her chest.   
Lexa had looked at her, asking her if there was something wrong, and Clarke had suddenly found herself so full of emotions that she could only shake her head and move in to deliver a quick kiss on her lover's soft, smiling lips.

Her mind is invaded by the sound of Lexa's voice, her face soft and open as she explains to Clarke that she wants to spend the day looking for new fields in which to plant crops, since their community is larger now and they'll need more food to survive the winter.   
“It will be an adventure” she says. Her eyes are bright. Then “You'll come with me, right?”  
“Are you sure you're not tired of me yet?” Clarke can hear herself asking.  
At the predictable “Not yet” that follows she turns around, setting her legs on each side of Lexa's hips and feigning offence.  
Her lover's eyes shine with laughter and Clark covers Lexa's mouth with hers, trying to capture the sound, to plant it inside her, and imagines soft and pliant roots spreading over her lungs, covering her heart like a protective shell.

She can feel the soft leather of Lexa's jacket under her fingers, as they ride through the forest. She feels restless, charged with the excitement that comes from the prospect of an entire day alone with her girl, and she can't keep her hands still. She caresses Lexa's hips and buries her head in her neck, feeling the soft, warm skin on her cheek.   
Lexa moves, baring her neck to Clarke's soft touches and kisses, and they bask in the sunlight that filters through the leafy branches above them. 

The silence is interrupted by a soft, feeble howling and Clarke turns her head to find a puppy not twenty feet from them, alone and apparently hurt.   
They stop and get off the horse to observe the pitiful, clearly malnourished creature. It is not unusual, during the cold, harsh winter months, to find half dead creatures wandering the forest, ribs visible under their mangy fur, fighting to survive just another day.  
But today the sun is warm, the forest is bursting with life, and there is no reason why this – dog? - shouldn't be with its pack.   
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Lexa's voice, whispering “Be careful, Clarke. We don't know if the mother is around.” 

But everything is silent except for the hummingbirds calling each other, invisible among the foliage that surrounds them.   
Lexa starts towards the puppy and Clarke is fascinated by the soft, caring expression on her face.   
She recalls the stories she has read about the bond between humans and animals, how a long time ago people used to keep dogs, cats and even snakes and lizards inside their houses, just to keep them company. 

She doesn't know if there had ever been any animals on the Ark, but she figures that even if that was the case, they had probably been floated out a long time ago, when things like oxygen and water had started to run low.   
She doesn't immediately realize the change in the air. She's still lost in her thoughts, and by the time she hears the crunch of crushed leaves and the howling that turns the forest silent in fear, Lexa is already running towards her, screaming at her to run, to hide and then -  
______________

Clarke opens her eyes to find that Raven is looking at her, cheeks wet and hands trembling.   
“We've been attacked by a pack of wolves” she says, not trusting herself with more words.  
The shocked expression that appears just for a moment on Raven's face, before the girl scolds her features into a more reassuring look, is enough to make Clarke wish she could just close her eyes and never have to open them again.

She gives herself twenty seconds and then she sits up, ignoring the clouds that darken the periphery of her vision.   
She's aware that Raven wants to tell her to lay down, she can see it clearly on her face, in the way her mouth turns into a thin line and her eyes darken, but they both know it would be only a waste of time and completely pointless.   
So, with a huff, her best friend stands up from her chair and helps her on her feet. 

“I don't even know why I bother with you” she tells Clarke.   
But her mouth is stretched into a soft smile and Clarke understands loud and clear all the things that Raven is too stubborn, too tried by life, to say: You scared me, I'm glad you're okay, I love you. 

Lexa's room, Raven tells her, is only a couple of doors over.   
They stop by the threshold and Clarke looks around anxiously, trying to locate Lexa's bed, but every cot is surrounded by a thick curtain and she can't see anything.   
She is about to step further into the room when she hears Raven's voice calling her back. Clarke turns around and finds herself surprised by the level of concern she can detect in her friend's voice “She hasn't waken up” Raven says. And then, after a moment, “We're not sure she will.”

Clarke looks at her and smiles softly. “She will” she replies.   
Then she turns around and enters the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click. 

 

3.

Lexa has been put in the bed closest to the window, and with the moonlight shining on her she looks so young that Clarke cannot for the life of her imagine the girl leading hundreds of people, of grown men and women, into battle. 

But then she remembers the black of her war paint, and the look in her eyes when she stood in front of her army, roaring that they were finally going to avenge their people, and the way her voice had sounded, when she had told her, unapologetic “That's how we survive, Clarke.”

Still in this moment, with Lexa clad in one of the shirts they keep around the medical area for emergencies, her face clean and her hair down, free even from the braids that usually adorn them, Clarke can imagine a different life, one where they had met up there, among the stars, without hunger, without war. 

She wonders what her lover would have been like, what would have been left of all the things that make Lexa who she is, and she's not sure she would like to know.   
Because as much as she regrets the circumstances that Lexa had to endure, the trials that life has put her through, she knows that those situations, and the terrible, impossible choices that she had to make in order to survive them, have made Lexa who she is.   
And, she thinks with a smile, that's not something she's willing to negotiate.

She sits on the uncomfortable metallic chair that is beside the bed and brushes a hand over Lexa's hair, gently, lovingly.  
“I know you can't hear me” she says, moving down towards Lexa's cheek and her high, serious looking jaw, “but I don't think I can stay here and not talk to you, so you'll have to bear with me.”

She smiles and she pushes back the tears that have gathered in her eyes. She won't cry. She won't cry until it's over, and it is not over because Lexa is not dead, so she has no reason to cry.  
She gets lost in her head for a minute, then she takes a deep breath. 

The words start tumbling out the second she opens her mouth, and she's absolutely unable to stop them.  
Her mind brings her back to a few hours earlier and suddenly she can hear the soft sounds of the forest around her, she can smell the pungent scent of Lexa's blood, mixed with that of the wolves.  
She can see Lexa's eyes, open wide in surprise and fear, when she realizes the extent of her injury. She knows the girl is not yet able to feel pain, the thrill of the battle still too vivid in her mind. Clarke closes the space between them and the second Lexa is enveloped in her arms she can feel the girl's legs giving out and a surprised gasp leaving her lips.   
Her hands move over the gash on her lover's chest, trying to apply pressure.   
She can feel the panic setting in, invading her mind like a poisonous fog, and she takes a deep breath, knowing that she needs to stay calm and focused in order to get Lexa out of this alive. 

Clarke manages to rip some fabric from her shirt and is about to put it over the wound when she feels Lexa's hand closing around her wrist, stopping her. She lifts her gaze to the Commander's and proudly considers that the murderous look in her eyes must have been sufficient to quieten any argument, because Lexa's hold softens immediately and she's able to resume her work. She's mentally preparing herself for the long, exhausting walk back to the village when she hears the rustle of leaves coming from her right and she realizes that despite the chaos, despite the danger and the confusion, the horse is still there. 

She lifts her head and she finds the other girl looking at her carefully. Lexa's mouth is stretched into a soft, proud smile, but her voice is weak.   
“It's a loyal creature” she tells Clarke.  
Clarke smiles back, standing up and putting her arms back around Lexa's waist, holding the other girl firmly against her.   
They manage to get on the horse, a deep frown marring Lexa's face, the girl's only concession to the unquestionably agonizing pain she's feeling.

As Clarke spurs the horse into running, Lexa's back heavy against her chest, their hands laced together over her wound, the Commander turns her head and hides her face in her lover's neck.  
Clarke can feel Lexa's lips moving, breathing words into her skin, and she turns to drops a kiss onto the pale surface of her forehead.   
Only after a few moments she's able to hear what Lexa is saying. “Don't worry, Clarke. My spirit will come back to you.”  
She presses her hand harder against Lexa's wound and replies, breathless and scared “I already told you once, I need your spirit to stay exactly where it is.” 

Lexa is laughing now, the sound soft and sweet. “I never thought” she says between deep, painful breaths, “I could feel the way I feel when I am with you.” Then again “My spirit will not remember the sacrifices I've made for my people. It won't remember the blood and the fight. But it will remember the sound of your laugh, Clarke. It will always choose you. I will always choose you.”

Clarke is about to tell her to stop with this nonsense, that her spirit won't need to remember anything because it's not going anywhere, she's not going anywhere, when she realizes that Lexa is unconscious. So she kisses her forehead again, tightens her hold on the horse's reins and once again urges the animal to go faster.  
____________

As her gaze wanders over Lexa's body, cataloguing every scratch, every small cut, Clarke can feel the tendrils of sleep luring her in, her limbs heavy and tired.  
She takes the Commander's hand in hers, and nestles her head into the other girl's lap.   
She takes a deep breath, her eyes about to close, and while she exhales she whispers into her lover's skin: “I will always choose you too.” 

She's already dreaming, the glow of the moon lulling her into sleep, when Lexa's hand moves, lacing their fingers together, holding onto her tight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frighten me? Yes you do frighten me. You act as though we will be together for ever. You act as though there is infinite pleasure and time without end. How can I know that?   
> I fear you have a door I cannot see and that any minute now the door will open and you'll be gone.  
> Jeanette Winterson-Written on the Body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i have decided to expand this story further. There will be three chapters total, with an epilogue (I think.)  
> Anyway, this is from Lexa's pov.  
> Let me know what you think!

1.

The weight on her lap is the first thing that Lexa is aware of when she wakes up. She opens her eyes and Clarke's hair looks like silver in the pale light of the moon, her eyes closed.   
She fixes her gaze on the other girl's face, observing the tiny cuts on her forehead, the scrapes on her cheek.   
She finds a deeper scratch just at the side of her mouth and her hand is already moving to gently brush over it before she has time to realize what she's doing.   
She stops, her hand frozen in mid air, then pulls it back over the white, threadbare sheets.

She tries to concentrate on her own body, fighting the numbing sensation caused by the sky people's medicines, in order to make an inventory of her injuries.   
Her chest hurts, even now, and she knows the gash must be as deep as she had predicted the moment she felt the wolf's claws tear into her skin. Her mind takes her back to the forest, to Clarke's expression after they had defeated the pack. To the way her eyes had opened wide and she had unconsciously raised her arms towards Lexa, as if she couldn't bare to be away from her even for another second.

She closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath.   
She had been distracted. She had let her guard down and in doing so put Clarke's life in danger. She realizes, now, how she should have paid more attention to her surroundings, how she should have noticed the absence of small creatures nearby, certainly driven away by the predators' proximity.   
But she was too busy concentrating on the way Clarke's lips felt on her neck, how the blond hair tickled her skin at every shift of her body, how her chest was firmly pressed into Lexa's back. 

She recalls the panic she felt when she realized the danger they were in, how her brain had zoomed in on a single thought, playing it like a loop in her head: keep Clarke safe, keep Clarke safe, keep Clarke safe.

She doesn't remember much of the actual fight, just the adrenaline running in her blood, filling her body with the desperate energy that allowed her to survive until the last beast was taken down, her sword gleaming red with its blood. 

She's yanked from her thoughts when she feels Clarke moving, trying to bury her face further into Lexa's warmth. She considers that the chair the girl is half seated on must be anything but comfortable and for a second she's tempted to wake her up, to invite her on the bed, to loose herself in the tight, soft hold of Clarke's arms.   
But something stops her, a subtle shame, an indistinct feeling that she doesn't deserve the comfort and protection that those arms would offer her.   
And anyway, Lexa thinks, Clarke is so beautiful in this moment, lost in the depths of sleep, her face relaxed, innocent, that she can't bear to disturb her. 

So she adjusts her body, unconsciously wrapping herself around the other girl as much as she can, and laces her fingers with her lover's ones. 

In a moment, she's asleep.

 

2.

Lexa stays in the medical area for exactly one week - the time it takes for the pain to go from excruciating to almost bearable - before she calmly informs Abigail that she is ready to return to her tent and to her obligations as commander.  
She ignores the doctor's protests, every technique that the woman uses to change her mind - from gentle firmness to outright frightening accounts of the possible consequences that her premature return to her life could have on her health - before finally storming out of the room announcing that she's not going to take any responsibility for her patience's thoughtless attitude. 

Lexa even ignores her own generals' attempts to reassure her that the situation is stable enough and that she should concentrate on her recovery.   
She knows they are legitimately worried about her. They are still benefiting from that honeymoon period that comes with the ending of every long suffered war and she and Clarke have become a sort of celebrated pair of heroes in the eyes of their people. But it's not the first time she's been in this situation, so she knows better than to take the population's respect and devotion for granted. They may worship the ground they walk on, for now, but it never lasts.

Clarke only looks at her, silently, and Lexa knows she understands. 

//

 

She's resolute on walking all the way from the medical area to her tent, horrified by the thought of her people seeing her in what Clarke calls a wheelchair, and her ribs protest painfully to her every movement.   
But she can't afford to be seen so weak that she can't even stand on her own feet, not after the fact that the last time her soldiers saw her she was being carried away in someone's arms like a child. 

Her balance starts wavering after only a few steps and by the time they finally come to what for every intent and purpose is her home, she has trouble breathing.   
Clarke moves the deer skin that covers the entrance of the tent aside, silently inviting her to go in first, and then turns to her mother and to Indra, who have followed them in case Lexa lost consciousness from the exertion, and tells them that they will be fine on their own for the night.   
They linger outside for a while, probably for some last minute instructions on what to do in case the pain gets really bad, so by the time Clarke joins her in the soft light of the candles Lexa is already half naked, struggling to free herself from her shirt. 

She spies Clarke putting some tiny bottles on the table and figures Abigail has guilt tripped her into taking them.   
But it doesn't matter. They both know Lexa is not going to take the sky people's medicines again, no matter how much pain she's in. After all, they only managed to drug her the first time because she wasn't awake to stop them. 

Clarke turns to her and send her a soft smile, but her expression becomes confused when Lexa doesn't return it.   
Wordlessly, she gets closer and starts helping with the difficult task of undressing without upsetting her already battered body even more.  
This is the first time they've been alone in days, and there's nothing Lexa wants more than to be able to hold Clarke close, to feel her skin, to bury her face in the other girl's neck.   
Still, when Clarke takes her hand Lexa's head is assaulted with images of what could have happened and in her mind Clarke's face is colored red with her blood, her eyes and mouth are open wide in her last breath.   
The horrifying picture disappears as suddenly as it has come, and Lexa instinctively retracts her hand, taking a step back.

“Don't worry. I already know how strong you are. You can let go now,” Clarke tells her quietly, lovingly.   
Lexa tries to take another step back, to put on a brave face, to scold her features into those she has memorized from a life of having to present herself as the heartless, ruthless commander of the grounders.   
But it's all useless because Clarke can see right through her, and by the time her mind is able to reconnect with her body, the other girl has already freed her from the shirt and taken her to bed, tucking them both under the covers, their bodies intertwined.

They don't say anything. There's no need to. They just look at one another for what seems like an immense amount of time, trying to memorize every detail of each other's faces, to commit the sensation of their bodies touching to memory, how they both feel like they have finally come home after a long journey away.   
They are painfully aware of each other's thoughts, how they are both replaying the attack in their heads, turning it into something far more sinister and tragic. 

Clarke falls asleep first, and it is only after her eyes have closed and her breath has slowed down to a peaceful rhythm that Lexa, her eyes shining with tears that she won't allow to fall, says, “I'm so sorry Clarke. I'm so sorry my love.” 

 

3.

She's busy planning an attack on a rival tribe which has been poisoning their cattle for weeks when Clarke suddenly comes barging into their tent.   
Her body is shaking with nervous rage, her lips tightened into a thin line, and Lexa thinks she's never appeared as magnificent as she does in this moment; a powerful, deadly creature, a work of art not to be messed with.

She knows the reason why Clarke is so angry. During the last month she has seen the girl's face grow more and more confused every time Lexa's brushed aside the chance to spend some time together in favor of unnecessary war meetings, every time she's refused Clarke's touch, every night she's turned her back to her lover and only pretended to fall asleep, too cold and bitter to actually surrender to slumber. 

She knows at first Clarke has tried to give her space, perhaps believing her burdened by some problem regarding the protection of the village; but Lexa has seen her patience waver over time, the hurt more and more vivid in her eyes and she has known that soon Clarke would inevitably confront her about it.

So she's not even remotely surprised when she hears the girl say, her nerves masked by the harshness of her voice, “You need to tell me what's happening, because I can't go on like this anymore.”

“Nothing is happening, Clarke.” she answers, calmly. “I am simply resuming the duties I have forgotten for too long. I'm sorry if you feel that I am neglecting our time together but you must understand that we cannot let our guard down if we want to ensure the survival of our community.”

“I thought we were past this,” the girl replies after a few seconds, her voice suddenly tired.

“Past what, Clarke? Look around you. Our people are still starving. The other tribes are still trying to kill us. You and your people came all the way down here looking for life, but this world is made of death.” She takes a breath, trying to calm herself down. “Our war is not over. It will never be over.”

“I know exactly how dangerous this world is, and I'm not saying we should ignore it, but I thought we were past sacrificing everything good in our lives, past living every day as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, past...” But what remains of Clarke's answer is lost, interrupted by Lexa's exasperated cry, “I have a responsibility towards my people, can you understand that?” 

Lexa herself is surprised at how angry she is, surprised that her calm and collected demeanor has abandoned her in the moment she needed it the most.   
She closes her eyes, again trying to compose herself, then resumes, more quietly, “I have a responsibility towards them, towards all of you. I am the Heda. It is my duty to protect and care for my people, for our people, above everything else. That's what I was born to do. That's what my spirit was born to do, and has done, for many years.   
Things are quiet now, Clarke, but don't be fooled into thinking that's how they will stay. Not unless we keep watch, always.”

“That's bullshit!” Clarke explodes, with renewed heat.   
Lexa opens her mouth to retort but the girl continues, “I'm well aware of our responsibilities as leaders. I know it's our job to provide resources for our people, to protect them, to create the best conditions in order for them to thrive.” She pauses and takes a step towards Lexa, looking straight into her eyes.   
“But that's not what this is about. This is about you and me. This is about us being attacked by that pack. I know you blame yourself. And I know you were scared they were going to hurt me...”

“Scared?!” Lexa exclaims, infuriated. “Scared? Clarke, I was terrified! There was an entire pack of wolves trying to make us into their next meal, and only me to protect you. We were hours away from the village. And all that happened because I got distracted, because I failed to recognize the danger we were in.   
I've been living in this woods all my life, Clarke. I know them like I know the back of my hand. I recognize every sound, every smell, every reflection that the light creates filtering through the trees.   
But when I am with you... I forget everything I know, everything I've been taught.   
And that's dangerous, Clarke. It's dangerous for me, for you, and for our people.   
What do you think would happen if I were to die tomorrow? My generals follow my orders because they respect my judgment and my position, but how long do you think it would take them to turn against your group if I wasn't here to entice power over them? If something happened to me all the sky people would be in danger. And you more than anyone.”

Clarke is silent for a long time, her eyes fixed somewhere behind Lexa's head, then finally replies, “When we were riding on that horse, the last thing you told me before you lost consciousness was that you will always choose me. So I'm asking you to trust me on this. To trust my word that it won't come to that. I'm asking you to trust me when I say that we can find a compromise between your role as Commander and what's between us.   
I've always been by your side, Lexa. We got through a war together because we wanted to build a better world, to give our people a better life. Now the war is over and we've managed to come up on the other side. We are here. We have a life to live, and I'm asking you to live it with me.  
I don't want to just survive anymore, Lexa. I don't want my life to be defined only by the battles I've won and the people I've killed. We have created a new world together, but what good does that make if we are not living in it? So I'm asking you to choose to live instead of surviving. I'm asking you to choose me.”

Lexa can see Clarke's eyes filling up with tears, can see her hands trembling and is sure that the girl is fighting the temptation to wrap them around herself. She loves that she's holding onto her strength, even now.   
She loves her proud, fierce girl.   
She loves her with all her bitter, stony heart.

Clarke's voice is delicate, pleading. “Choose me.”

Lexa looks at her. They stay frozen, observing each other for a long moment, and then suddenly she can see Clarke's whole body deflating as the girl realizes she has lost the fight.   
With a sigh Clarke turns around, heading towards the threshold, and is about to step outside when Lexa tells her, “I am choosing you, Clarke. One day you'll be able to see that.”

She thinks she can see Clarke's back stiffen, but the girl doesn't turn around.   
“I am,” she repeats, her words sure, final.  
Clarke stops for a moment, then resumes her walk.

Lexa doesn't follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, find me on tumblr @ eyleeen. Thank you for reading. Reviews are awesome :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke kisses her like she's a treasure, long sought and finally discovered, and maybe that's the closest thing to the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the muse seemed to have forgotten about me, but thanks to a couple of reviews I’ve received in these days she has apparently found her way back to my door. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I know it has taken me a while. There will be an epilogue after this but I don’t know when. 
> 
> I’m having a lot of fun experimenting with short stories so please keep sending me prompts on tumblr @ eyleeen!

1.

Their house is located near the east border of the village, where the well-trod soil gives way to the forest, and an almost indistinguishable pathway leads to a small, clear lake.  
Lexa has built the small cottage herself, selecting each stone used for the walls, each piece of wood with which to build the windows and the furniture, each scrap of metal for the pots and pans.  
It is not luxurious by any means, but they have learned to need very little, and to want even less.  
The house is small and dirty, but it's warm and it's theirs and that's all that matters.

It had all started one night when Clarke was reading some of her favorite poems to Lexa, her voice soft and sleepy.  
Lexa too was slowly surrendering to slumber, when Clarke started reciting-  
Her breast is fit for pearls,  
But I was not a "Diver" -  
Her brow is fit for thrones  
But I have not a crest.  
Her heart is fit for home-  
I - a Sparrow - build there  
Sweet of twigs and twine  
My perennial nest.

“I like that,” Lexa had said, turning towards Clarke and capturing the girl's cold feet between hers. “Those last three lines. I want to do that.”  
“Are you going to build me a home?” Clarke had asked, a smirk on her face and her voice full of laughter and adoration.  
“Yes.”  
“Alright, my little sparrow,” Clarke had answered.  
The book forgotten, they had laid under the covers facing each other, only a breath separating them in the rapidly darkening room. “Tell me about it.”  
“Well... let's see. I'll build it on the east side of the village, where the trees become gold every morning with the rising of the sun, and the grass is high. It will have a sturdy door that we will close at night so nobody can bother us, and windows all around so we can see the birds perched on the branches. There will be a small table, just for us, and a big bed with soft furs and light sheets. And on the back porch we will place an easel so you can paint and I'll build a library for all your books, and you will read them to me every night before we fall asleep.”  
Her voice had become more and more faint, more and more sleepy the longer she talked.  
Clarke's voice held the same quality when she whispered, “That sounds lovely.” And then, after a bit, “I love you, Lexa. You know that, right? Forever.”  
“I love you too,” she had answered. “Whatever happens, don't ever forget it.”  
//  
Lexa relives that moment in her mind seemingly a thousand times and her arms ache with the desire to hold Clarke and never let go.  
She has seen her only in passing, the girl busy planting crops or helping her mother in the medical area after the scouts' return from one of the many missions Lexa is sending them on lately.  
Lexa has started sleeping in her tent again and she has never felt as much like a soldier away in battle as she does now in her cold, uncomfortable cot. It's not like she is using it much, anyway.  
On most nights she knows she won't be able to sleep so she prefers to stay awake, perched on her armchair, the maps of the areas surrounding the village spread on the table. She crams her head with unnecessary battle plans, spends hours arranging useless scouts' missions against imaginary enemies, anything to forget how empty her arms feel without Clarke nestled in them, how she can't sleep, can't breath without the other girl near. 

 

2.

“Take the game to the kitchens,” Lexa commands a young soldier while dismounting her horse, “We'll have a feast tonight.”  
She can see the small group of people, composed mostly by elders and children, those who are not working around the village or in the fields, that has gathered around the returning hunting party.  
The mood is relaxed and cheerful, and it takes Lexa a few moments before she can recognize it for what it is. Her people are happy.  
In the two weeks since her and Clarke's heated discussion her soldiers have managed to launch a few successful attacks towards a couple of tribes that were threatening their northern borders, their army almost invincible thanks to the combination of the grounders' knowledge of the land and the power of the sky people's firearms.  
Their community feels finally safe and the morale of the village is high.  
This is everything she has ever wanted, what has given her the strength to face every hard decision she had to make both in the battlefield and outside, what has allowed her to keep her sanity when the ghosts had come banging at her door in the middle of the night, plaguing her dreams.

But now, seeing her people smiling and joking, the children chasing each other around while their parents look at them, no longer anguished by the terror of what their future will be like, Lexa can't find it in herself to share any of the joy that surrounds her.  
She only feels tired and heavy. She starts towards her tent, hoping that her seconds will leave her alone for the rest of the day, when she feels Indra following her.  
She knows her second is not happy with the way things have been lately, so she's not at all surprised when Indra's voice fills the space between them.  
“Are you sure, commander, that this is the right time for celebrations?”  
Lexa takes a deep breath, making a mental bet with herself on how long Indra will be able to go on before loosing her cool.  
“Why not, Indra? The hunting expedition has been fruitful, and a wedding will be taking place in a few short days.”  
“Lincoln and Octavia don't need any big celebration, Heda. The winter has been harsh, and we are still low on food's provisions. Not to mention that it is hardly convenient to get half of the soldiers drunk when the other half is out on numerous scouting missions and thus not here to protect the village.”  
“Is it a complain I hear in your voice, Indra? Do you not agree with the decisions I have made as a leader?”  
Indra stops, and Lexa turns around to hear her answer.  
“Heda, you know my faith in you is unshakable. I didn't agree with your decision to form an alliance with the sky people, but I followed you anyway. And you were right. The alliance has finally ended a war our clan had been fighting for too long a time, and brought prosperity and happiness to our people.”  
The older woman pauses and gets closer before resuming more quietly, “Lexa. I've been beside you since you became Heda. I've seen you grow, both as a person and as a leader. I've seen you make mistakes and learn from them. There are mistakes we can come back from, and others we can't. And some that are only redeemable for a short amount of time before they become our doom. I trust you know the difference.”  
“Whatever you have to say, Indra, just say it. No skirting around.”  
“Alright,” Indra gets even closer, her stance protective and stoic at the same time. “I've never seen you happier than in these last few months. Not even with Costia. And I know how hard it must have been for you to trust the sky girl with your heart, after what happened. You know I do.  
“We are the same, you and I. Our days are grounded in the heat of the battle, and our nights are drowned in the blood we have shed. But that's not all there is. That's not life. I learned it the hard way. I let my person go, and my heart has been cold for many years by now.  
“And the truth is that that hasn't made me a better general. It hasn't made me stronger. Just more desperate. And what you're doing right now, the missions you are ordering, the decisions you are making, I can see in them the same desperation that has filled me. You are miserable, and so is she.”  
“At least she's alive. I can't put her in danger again, Indra.”  
“You need to find a way to solve this situation, because right now you are putting everyone in danger. Your people need you strong. They need you focused. And that's not going to happen while you're nursing a broken heart. You cannot devote your life to making your people happy if you will not accept happiness for yourself.”  
Apparently having said her piece, Indra turns around and, without looking back, retreats towards the military compartment.  
Lexa enters her tent, shaken and confused. 

 

3.

That night the sky is illuminated by the many bonfires lit around the main square, and everyone, sky people and trigedakru alike, are gathered together to celebrate both the ending of one of the harshest winter they can recount and the first union of their two groups in the form of Octavia and Lincoln's wedding.  
The ceremony itself will be in a few days but no one can refuse a chance to drink and be merry, and the tables are filled with people talking, a mixture of English and Trigedasleng. A few couples are dancing, and Clarke doesn't remember ever seeing anyone of her group as cheerful and carefree as they are right now.  
She's sitting alone on a log near one of the fires, observing, when she feels a presence behind her.  
She doesn't need to turn around to know who it is. She has developed a sort of sixth sense for Lexa in the months of their relationship, and she didn't expect it to go away just because they are not together anymore.

“They look so happy,” Lexa says.  
Clarke wonders for a moment if she's talking about Lincoln and Octavia, whom she spies laughing together over some silly whispered secret only they know, or the rest of their people. She decides it doesn't matter anyway.  
“Yeah,” she answers.  
They fall silent, and it's awkward, and sad, and everything they swore they will never be together. Lexa must be thinking the same thing because Clarke can see her preparing to leave.  
But she doesn't want that. She never wants that. So she gathers all her strength, all her bravery, and she asks, “Would you like to dance with me?”  
Lexa's eyes are wide and she reminds Clarke of a wild animal the moment it realizes it's caught in a trap. But then the girl takes a deep breath, and Clarke can see her whole body relaxing.  
“It depends. Will it be one of my dances, or one of yours?”  
“Come on, we both know you love the waltz. Every time I play the vinyl with that Billie Holiday song you practically beg me to dance with you...”  
She realizes too late what she has said and when she turns around Lexa looks heartbroken, her eyes full of tears, her hands trembling.  
“I'm sorry,” Clarke amends. “I wasn't thinking.”  
She stands up and starts to leave but a hand wraps delicately around her wrist.  
“I would love to dance with you, Clarke,” Lexa declares, tender and hopeful. “Whatever song you want.”

 

4.

Lexa's hand moves from her wrist to tangle their fingers, and they start walking until they notice that they're in front of their house.  
Lexa goes to open the door but stops once she's about to enter. This is their home, but she hasn't been inside in weeks and suddenly she wonders if it has become Clarke's house instead, if she needs to be invited inside. The thought makes her want to vomit.  
Clarke, never to be underestimated, seems to recognize her struggle and puts a hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her inside and closing the door after them.  
“Do you remember what you told me once, about this door? You said that you wanted a sturdy door, so that-”  
“So that nobody could bother us at night.” Clarke gives a soft smile, and it feels like salvation. “I remember everything about you.”

She goes to the old gramophone she's had since she was little, when she discovered it among some old ruins near her town. In the years she's been able to collect a few vinyls, but none of the songs she's listened to has fascinated her like the one she's putting on right now.  
As the music starts, and Billie Holiday's warm voice invades the room, Lexa takes Clarke's hand in her own again and invites her closer, closer, until she cannot tell where one ends and the other starts.  
Clarke's other hand gently caresses Lexa's hair before cupping her neck. They swing together, just looking at each other and Lexa thinks- this is it. This is the moment for which she has fought, and bled, and survived. This is why she has endured all those battles, why fate has saved her countless times when she was sure her life was over.  
It was all so she could live this moment, to be here right now, with Clarke's hand stroking her neck and her body close. So she could see the devotion in the girl's eyes, the raw emotions Clarke cannot conceal after the weeks apart.  
So she could feel herself bursting with the strength of this feeling, her chest tight and her eyes full of tears.  
Clarke's hands come to catch them before they fall to her cheeks and Lexa's heart explodes with the love she feels for this girl, for this amazing, strong, fearless girl.

“Come back home,” Clarke finally pleads. “The bed is cold, and the pillow doesn't smell like you anymore, and I need you. I need you to wake me up in the morning with a kiss, I need you to dance silly old songs with me. I need to fall asleep with you holding me, and to wake up with you all the way on the other side of the bed because you can't stop moving when you sleep.”  
Lexa smiles and holds her tighter.  
“I want to. I really do. But I don't know if I'm brave enough,” she confesses.  
“You are. I know you are. And when you are not, I will be brave enough for the both of us.”  
Lexa touches her forehead to Clarke's.  
“You were always so much braver than me,” she says.

She doesn't know who moved first, but suddenly their lips are touching, and she can breathe again.  
Clarke kisses her like she's a treasure, long sought and finally discovered, and maybe that's the closest thing to the truth.  
Clarke has found her, has breathed life back into her body with soft words and delicate touches, has conquered her soul without Lexa even realizing it.  
How wrong she has been, thinking that she could ignore the very person her soul has swore loyalty and devotion to. She belongs to Clarke, just as much as Clarke belongs to her.  
//  
“I will protect you,” Clarke tells her in the dark, after.  
Lexa has never believed much in promises but this one, this one feels like a miracle.  
And if she can choose something, anything, to put all her faith in, she will gladly choose Clarke every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are lovely and they really make me want to write, so if you like my stories drop by to have a chat here or on tumbrl :)

**Author's Note:**

> Again, reviews are awesome! 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @ antheagunnn.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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